


All New Attitude

by XYDamianKane



Series: Kinktober 2019 [18]
Category: Batman Beyond, DCU
Genre: Brat-Taming, Dubious Consent, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Power Dynamics, Spanking, Trans Male Character, Unreliable Narrator, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 19:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21086765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XYDamianKane/pseuds/XYDamianKane
Summary: Terry must know this is a test, because all of it is a test.





	All New Attitude

**Author's Note:**

> Bruce, Terry, corporeal punishment. Tale as old as time. I'm surprised it hasn't been written more often.
> 
> Mind the warnings.

Day 18: Body Worship | Bloodplay | **Brat Taming** | Sex Toys

* * *

They’ve had this conversation a few times, now.

“I wouldn’t have a problem with your _ attitude _ if it I didn’t feel like it was affecting your work in the field. It’s making you careless. God, I ought to turn you over my knee; you’re acting like such a _ child_,” Bruce growls.

Terry rolls his eyes. He’s still in the leggings of the suit and nothing else. He looks ridiculous.

“You don’t believe me?”

“C’mon, B, you can’t be serious.”

“Don’t call me that,” Bruce snaps.

“Fine! Christ.”

That’s the final straw. Bruce wrenches one arm and flips him, and it’s way too easy to get the drop on someone who’s supposed to be Batman. He suppresses a wince as he stoops to pin Terry down.

“You should be better than this.”

“If I’m in the _ field _ I’m obviously on my guard more than I am if I’m just _ talking _ to my _ weird boss_.”

Big words for someone pinned to the ground by an octogenarian. What a brat.

“I’m going to stand up and I’m going to show you just how serious I am, Terry.” Bruce feels like he’s putting on an act: still as himself, just thirty, forty years ago, when he could talk Dick down from something with a stare.

Terry scoffs, but Bruce reads a little less bravado behind it. It’s good enough for now.

“Strip.”

Terry stands and looks into one of the security cameras, as if consulting an audience for advice on the absurdity of it all. He obeys anyways. His _ what’s-the-worst-that-could-happen _ approach will get him killed someday, but for now, it works to Bruce’s advantage.

His eyes flick over to Bruce, but he quickly looks away as he takes off his underwear without Bruce even asking.

Jesus Christ.

Bruce sees Terry's left hand twitch. He’s probably fighting the urge to cover himself or fidget. At least he’s_ trying _ not to signal tells.

Bruce keeps stone-faced as he sits down and pats one knee. He’s aroused, of course he is, but he has to ignore that, he has to see this through. 

Terry makes a face. “You’re for real?”

Bruce eyes him steadily. “I’ve dealt with plenty of brats like you, Terry. The sooner you give it up, the sooner it’s over,” and he tastes regret on his tongue as soon as the words come out.

Terry shakes his head a little in apparent disbelief, but crawls over Bruce’s lap anyways.

He must not know what’s coming.

“We’re going to thirty. Count them for me.”

“Oh, so the _ spanking _ isn’t enough, I have to--ah!” The slap rings out.

“One,” Terry huffs, shifting in his lap.

The first dozen or so proceed more or less the same, except that Terry’s ass has grown significantly more pink.

Around fifteen, Terry’s voice cracks on the count.

Bruce fights the impulse to confirm that Terry is getting wet. He can feel something soaking into the wool of his trousers, but that could be any number of things.

Terry squirms and cranes his head back to look at Bruce. He’s forgotten himself-- he brings his hand down again and fails to moderate the blow.

“Ow!” Terry flinches for the first time.

Bruce shushes him instinctively and rubs at the handprint he’s left, a gesture at soothing it. It’s so smooth, pretty in a way Bruce hasn’t seen up close in a long time.

“We’re halfway there,” Bruce says, largely to himself.

“It's sixteen, now.”

“Maybe two more, then, for your attitude.”

Terry makes a protesting noise, but Bruce knows for a fact that Terry’s had worse. It must be the humiliation that’s getting to him. It’s not like Bruce can blame him.

He rushes through the next four, then the next ten, alternating sides and he doesn’t let up until he realizes that Terry is sobbing. 

Bruce is harder than he’s ever been in his life. He wonders if Terry can feel it.

He spanks each thigh, twice, and they’re almost there. 

Bruce can't help himself. He pushes two fingers into the notch between Terry’s thighs-- to check, of course-- and the boy is incredibly slick. He strokes the length of Terry’s pussy, almost absentmindedly, and it’s warm and soft and completely frictionless. 

Terry’s breathing has turned ragged. Bruce pushes forward and feels his swollen clit.

The boy in his lap does not move a muscle. Good. Tensing, jumping: these traitorous natural responses can kill you in the field.

Bruce rubs him steadily for half a minute. Terry’s breathing slows to the normal pace--Bruce can feel his muscles tense ever so slightly, but he still doesn’t move. 

He must know this is a test, because all of it is a test. 

Bruce swallows his own conscience--it’s really for the boy’s own good-- and pushes a finger inside him. It’s a little hard to maneuver: Terry’s legs are barely parted and he’s maintaining position like the soldier Bruce knows he can be.

Bruce sighs.

“You can relax.”

Terry doesn’t, so Bruce has to his legs apart further so he can get a better angle to fuck him. He adds another finger, and Terry’s walls are slick and tight around him.

Terry’s thigh is rubbing up against Bruce’s erection, now, back and forth in time with Bruce’s thrusts.

Bruce’s cock throbs with it all--the contact, the power trip, the beautiful boy in his lap. He could cum like this, once, but that was a long time ago.

Terry’s pussy flutters around his fingers now. He must be close. Bruce spreads his legs wider again, and bodily moves Terry so he can hump against Bruce’s thigh and make himself cum. 

The boy doesn’t take the initiative himself, but, Bruce fucks him to orgasm anyways. He gushes around Bruce’s fingers and he cries out like a wounded animal.

Bruce takes his time pulling his fingers out. He wipes the slick on Terry’s bare back. Terry moves, as if to get up, but Bruce pins him in place and swats him on the ass, two last times.

Terry shudders with the blows, boneless in Bruce’s lap. Two matching handprints form, blooming pink on the pale skin there.

Terry slides into a crouch before he stands and pulls the leggings back up. Bruce can see him trembling.

Bruce reaches out before Terry turns to go, stopping him with a hand on his hip. Terry flinches, and Bruce has to ignore it.

"You did well. Go get dressed."

Terry pauses, seems to shake something off, and looks at him, flashing a grin.

"OK. But you better bend me over the console next time. I've had some particularly special dreams about it."

Bruce rolls his eyes and pushes Terry away, but there's no force behind it this time.

**Author's Note:**

> me: god what the fuck do I call this fic  
my foolish brain: Bratman Beyond. Attitude Beyond.  
me: this is NOTHING


End file.
